


Bruised Hearts and Forgotten Promises

by anotherblight (orphan_account)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Domestic Violence, M/M, Polyamory, Switchblades and Gym Class AU, sbgc au, welcome to hell! welcome to hell!, who am i kidding this isn't hurt/cumfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/anotherblight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Streetlights flickered to life, inviting sundown an hour early.</p><p>Bruce and Adam sat on the porch passing a joint between calloused hands watching as James, Matt, and Lawrence passed a softball across the front yard. Sean navigated a precariously balanced Joel around the various potholes that lined the street on his skateboard.</p><p>“One day, we’re going to have nights like this every night,” a wistful Adam hummed. Bruce watched Adams soft red eyes follow Sean as the slender boy ran to catch Joel as he drifted away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruised Hearts and Forgotten Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: http://mikewazowskitakesafall2008.tumblr.com/post/141235517458/bruised-hearts-and-forgotten-promises-words

Streetlights flickered to life, inviting sundown an hour early.

Bruce and Adam sat on the porch passing a joint between calloused hands watching as James, Matt, and Lawrence passed a softball across the front yard. Sean navigated a precariously balanced Joel around the various potholes that lined the street on his skateboard.

“One day, we’re going to have nights like this every night,” a wistful Adam hummed. Bruce watched Adams soft red eyes follow Sean as the slender boy ran to catch Joel as he drifted away.

“Adam…what would you do if one of us just, disappeared…”

The hum of crickets increased as the sky burned orange.

“Think about it. Joel’s dad could just decide one day that they’re going to move and that would be it. If his dad found out where he really goes most days and then takes all this away from him, away from us.”

“Why would I think about that?”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never considered it Adam. Sean suddenly doesn’t show up at school, what would you do?”

“Bruce,” Adam’s lungs deflated as he forced the name out.

The bearded teen continues, “James gets transferred to a different school. Maybe a catholic one…”

“Stop, please.” Adam begs.

Bruce snubs the joint in the ashtray before gathering his lighter and discarded glass bottles to bring inside. Adam follows suit after witnessing Joel bring Sean down to the asphalt after falling for what must be the fourth time that evening.

* * *

Adam joins Bruce in the kitchen.

“Bruce, what the fuck was that out there?”

“It’s exactly what I asked you, what would you do if any of us just disappeared?”

“I-I’m not going to answer that.”

“What would you do? I know you’ve thought about it, we all have at some point.”

“Are you going to leave…?” The air in the kitchen was heavy and caught in Adam’s throat. He scratched at the feeling of needles pricking his forearms, “are you going to leave?” he repeated.

Adam’s voice seemed to echo across the tiles. The same tiles that he had hugged when the house was empty and the silence was crippling.

“Never,” Bruce pushed past the crumbling frame of his boyfriend, “I’m not going to leave you, but someone like Joel isn’t in a position to make that decision.”

Adam wasn’t lying. He hadn’t thought about what he would do if the younger boys suddenly went away. He used to think about Bruce leaving him, but that thought had faded away long ago. Sure he’d contemplated if any of them were to die:

Lawrence during weeks when nothing seemed to lighten the stoic boy’s stormy mind, keeping count of Joel’s seemingly endless white lines, James’ body finally decaying…

This was different. The thought of not knowing was new. Not knowing if they were breathing the same air that kept him from drowning in grief.

The image of someone else’s hands on any of the boys floated to the forefront of Adams mind. Not the monsters that disguised as fathers or collection of strong hands that busted lips. Adam toyed with the idea of someone loving them like _he_ loved them, like they loved each other. Them not being _them._

Adam’s arms were spotted with crimson from the absentminded clawing he had started.

He was able to convince himself that his mind was foggy from the joint coupled with trying to force the images away. Adam chased after Bruce into the front room.

* * *

Bruce was waiting for Adam’s appearance, arms folded across his broad chest.

“Now you’ve thought about it haven’t you? What would you do? Would you cry? Would you kill yourself even though that means leaving me alone in this town? In this house?”

Bruce knew he was fueling the fire by this point. Adam couldn’t keep running away from the reality that the relationship between the seven boys was fragile. That some of them were still just kids. Kids that were in legal custody of _other people_. And Bruce didn’t get mad at Adam often for this. He knew too well how debilitating Adam’s anxiety could be.

* * *

It had been building since the week previous when Joel had shown up at 1am shaking so hard it looked as if his muscles were convulsing. When Joel couldn’t explain because he had let too much anger and fear rip through his throat.

A mute Joel shared the bed with a weeping Adam the rest of the night as the larger boy left matching bruises on Joel’s boney hips from a vice-like grip. Bruce had to spend an hour the following morning coaxing Adam off of the slender boy.

Bruce had been the one to convince Adam that the seven were inseparable. Had been the one to _lie_ to Adam that they were all going to be okay. And not for the first or the last time.

* * *

“I promised myself that I would never leave you, but did you make the same promise?”

“How can you say that,” Adam’s voice was cracking, “I-of course I did.”

“ _I_ promised,” Bruce spat, “ _you’re MINE and I would never leave you._ But would you leave me if someone else were to go first?”

Adam forced his hands into fists.

“You’re not even going to defend yourself? You’re selfish Adam! I’m always the one to lift you up and assure you that my heart is locked to yours. When do you do that for me? I have to be strong for _everyone_! You cry and I dry your tears, James starves and I watch him eat! I know you like to think that you’ve carried our troubles on your shoulders but it hasn’t been that way in a long time! All your problems become mine, I lock them away and do what with them? NOTHING! They sit in my mind and I can’t tell you about it because you’re not strong enough Adam!”

Bruce regrets how much he’s said, most of it he didn’t believe. Adam wasn’t selfish for hurting, but Bruce was tired of _not_ _feeling._

He should have been more prepared for Adam’s fist suddenly connecting with his jaw. It was the spark that Bruce was waiting for. He couldn’t wait for things to subside. Two self-destructive teens could only go so long without biting back.

Bruce shoved Adam hard enough that he fell to the floor.

“Fuck you Bruce!”

“You’re nothing without all seven of us Kovic!” Bruce straddled Adam and pushed his shoulders to the hardwood flooring, preventing any attempt to stand back up.

“You bastard,” Adam spat back.

Adam clawed at the arms holding his shoulders in place and rammed an elbow into the crook of Bruce’s left arm causing it to jerk violently into the coffee table.

The commotion had gained the attention of the boys outside leading to the crash of the screen door and distressed gasps.

Bruce’s fist connected with Adam’s jaw. Adam retaliated with a fist that managed to hit part of Bruce’s nose, effectively causing blood to drip and mix with the tears neither boy had noticed.

James was the first to yell at Bruce to stop, he lurched forward to wrap an arm around Bruce’s waist but was shoved into the opposite wall.

Joel was making panicked noises that Bruce drowned out as he let another fist collide with Adam’s jaw.

Lawrence stepped up and dug his hands under Bruce’s armpits in an attempt to pry him off of Adam with minimal success before and elbow collided with Lawrence’s ribs.  

Bruce was frenzied at this point. The stress of caring for everyone, especially Adam. The past week building up to this, _this breaking point._

“Fuck off!” He roared, hitting Adam once again.

Sean’s face was wet with tears as he placed a shaking hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

One hand positioned dead center on Sean’s chest with the force of a truck sent the small boy stumbling back, Sean’s face morphed into a horrified expression as he fell into the coffee table, the sharp corner slicing the side of his arm.

Blood seeped through the cut.

Silence fell.

Bruce knew immediately after his hand had felt the fabric of Sean’s shirt what he’d done.

Something he’d promise himself he would _never_ do.Never lay one hand on any of the boys that could not hold their own.

 

The whole house was caught in a moment of alarm.

Bruce’s eyes glazed over as he saw Joel wrap around Sean’s side where the youngest had fallen.

His heart was no longer in his chest. Bruce couldn’t feel the comforting rhythm vibrating through his limbs. There were no words in his mind and everything seemed to fall out of existence. There was no more couch or coffee table, only him and the small pool of red gathering on the floor under Sean’s arm.

He climbed off of Adam and walked stiffly towards the garage. The only place that seemed to exist in his mind. Bruce’s head swam and vision wavered as he reached for the doorknob which burned like hellfire. The door opened and Bruce allowed himself to fall into the darkness within.

* * *

Bruce had never fainted but and was certain that’s what had happened when he picked himself off the concrete floor of the garage. The rising feeling of vomit and pounding in his head were the only things he could feel in the dark of the damp garage.  He made his way to the lone mattress to bury himself under the blankets.

* * *

The sky was a dark blue when Bruce woke up again, just before dawn. He couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep once reaching the mattress, his body and mind were numb so he suspected that he may have never actually fallen asleep.

The house was quiet and Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if it stayed that way the rest of the day.

He discarded the blankets he had hidden under hours before and searched the garage for a blank canvas.

* * *

Hours passed before any sound came from the house. He heard muffled voices through the door but no one came.

So he painted in silence.

Painted long strokes of reds and purples.

* * *

Most of the day had gone by before there was a small knock.

Adam appeared. Bruises were blooming on the boys jaw and his lip was swollen a rough shade of red.

“You’ve still got blood on your face, I know now what you were doing last night, well, at least I have an idea.”

“Do you now?”

“You don’t have to hold everything in so that _this_ happens,” Adam makes a general motion between the two of them.

“Okay.”

“Bruce I’m serious, I thought you knew that. We’ve all got to be honest with each other so that no one gets hurt…Look at what happened! Bruce! I know you feel bad about this!”

He continued the monotonous long strokes.

“Bruce, we’re talking put down the brush and look at me!”

“I think you’re yelling at me and I’m painting, we’re not talking.”

“Well we would be if you would just _stop_!”

Bruce was setup with his easel facing away from the door to the rest of the house.

On nice days Bruce would open the garage door to watch life on the street unfold. Only on bad days would he turn his back from the large door, effectively turning his back to the world.

Bruce’s window had become his canvas. Splashes of reds encompassed the palette that delicately balanced on his knee.

Tired eyes seemed to focus on everything the canvas displayed, yet look beyond the canvas as if it wasn’t even sitting in front of him.

* * *

Adam had never been scared of his boys, scared _for_ them certainly, but they never sent shivers down his spine that Bruce’s blank look was causing. If he tried, Adam could try to convince his mind that it was the cool draft of the garage rather than admitting Bruce _scared_ him.

His anger ebbed away watching Bruce make short maroon strokes.

Adam crossed his arms, “Sean’s okay… he wants to talk to you.”

Bruce nodded but continued to mix colours.

“You scared him.”

His eyes flicked up to meet Adam’s. There was no readable emotion on Bruce’s face and Adam believed for a moment that Bruce, _his Bruce_ , was missing. That the boy that struggled to paint a masterpiece in front of him was a stranger.

The paintbrush fell from his hands and clattered on the hard concrete.

“I’m going to get some smokes.”

And just like that, Bruce set down the palette and pushed past Adam. The front door closed and footsteps came down the stairs to investigate.  

“Adam?” James appeared at the foot of the stairs, “Who just left? Was that Bruce?”

“Let him go, for once just leave him be okay,” Adam made a feeble attempt at a stern tone.

* * *

Adam took another step into the garage, the abandoned canvas enticing him further in. Expecting a landscape basked in orange tinted sunlight, Adam was surprised to find the drying image Bruce had left.

Violent, sharp strokes of maroon and crimson morphed to soft ruby hearts. Deep blood red sprayed across the entire canvas. Small inky-black words dripped and mixed with the splattered deep red. A messy hand had written ‘sorry’.

Adam was staring at heartache that had been meticulously illustrated.


End file.
